


Tales of the Lost Twins

by Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe (DH AU) D version [35]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherhood, Coming of Age, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Friendship, Gen, Injury, Politics, Secret Identity, Spanking, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:16:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In year 500 of the First Age, King Dior of Doriath and his wife Nimloth were blessed by the birth of their twin sons, Elured and Elurin.  In 506, the sons of Feanor ended their world, and Elured and Elurin disappeared from the historical record. What if the tales told by the wood-elves are true? What if the twin uncles of Elrond Peredhel had survived, safe and anonymous amongst the secretive Nandor of the forests?</p>
<p>Newest Chapter: The War of Wrath is grinding into its third bloody decade, and young Lord Elrond has a choice to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Should We Do?

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Summary: A group of village elders discuss what should be done with two foundlings, during the first age. 
> 
> A/N: This chapter takes place in 507 of the First Age, some short weeks or months after the Fall of Doriath, in the forests of Ossiriand.

In a village in the forests of Ossiriand, where the reclusive Laiquendi, called wood-elves, made their home, a small group of village elders sat down to discuss the problem posed by two young elflings, found wandering alone in the snow by the village's hunters.

"What in Eru's name should we do with them, Neirin?" The village weaver and eldest elder, an elleth with fawn colored hair, asked in mournful dismay.

"What can we do, Dilys my dear, but take them in, of course." Neirin, the village carpenter and blacksmith, replied firmly. Neirin was nearly as old as Dilys, and both had known Denethor, before the Laiquendi became leaderless in the wake of his death.

"Well, of course we shall care for them, heal their poor hurts and see them well again." Dilys replied, as if she was afraid Neirin, though a capable ellon, might be a little slow this day. "But we can't keep them."

"Why not?" Replied Dilys' son-by-law Bedwyr, a healer. "My lass Eirian is just their age, so is Neirin's great-granddaughter Serenwen. Be good for them to have some company in the village, and these two little lads are such nice elflings. You'll see, they'll be right as rain soon enough, running around and playing as elflings should."

Dilys sighed, and wondered if all of the male Laiquendi in their region of Ossiriand had gone mad that day. "We can't keep them because they're not ours." She said slowly, "I have no doubt that they, personally, are very good elflings. But they are not OUR elflings."

"You're afraid." Fion, the village's finest hunter, and trainer and leader of their milita, observed softly. "They're just elflings, Dilys, it makes no sense to fear them."

"Its not them Dilys fears, its these." Bedwyr, who had seen to the hurts of the poor elflings, drew out the jewelry the two young ellyn had been wearing. Each young boy had borne several rings on his tiny fingers, the most ornate of which had two names engraved in a delicate, ancient script on the miniscule band. Great skill had carved the names; Elured on the sapphire ring, Elurin on the ruby ring. Each elfling had also worn a necklace like a noble lord's chain of office, semi-precious stones linked by a golden chain. The clasps of each bore the engraving, "a gift of Turgon, delivered by the talons of the Eagles."

Fion raised an eyebrow. "Heirs to Doriath, which exists no more. Of interest, evidently, to King Turgon of Gondolin. But Gondolin cannot be found. I'd say these elflings belong to us as much as anyone." Fion was already invested in the elflings. He had been the leader of the hunting party that found them, impressed by their endurance and faith, having followed the beasts all the way from fallen Doriath to within ten leagues of their village.

Dilys sighed again. "There must have been survivors of Doriath, kin who would claim them."

Neirin shrugged. "King Dior and Queen Nimloth both died. Little Princess Elwing and the silmaril they were killed for, are together, being cared for by retainers of Dior's, at the mouth of the River Sirion. But nowhere on Beleriand is safe, these days. Particularly not anyone in connection with something so coveted by the sons of Feanor."

Fion, Bedwyr, and Dilys considered that. Neirin often knew things before he should. His granddaughter Heddwyn, though the youngest of the elders, was the most reliable predicter of fair or foul weather in their village.

Heddwyn herself added in the distracted tone that usually indicated a true prophecy, "They will die if you send them back to their family. The Kin-Slayers will come again, and they will be warriors, not elflings. These twins will not be shown even the scant mercy they received this time, exposed to the elements. They will be killed."

Dilys sighed a third time. Heddwyn was an elleth, but Dilys should have known better than to expect her to be sensible. Heddwyn was the sort to bring home a wounded wild cat, and train it to hunt rabbits. True, her pets had never attacked anyone, but there could always be a first time. It just wasn't natural.

"They might bring war here, someday." Dilys felt compelled to argue further. She was losing, and she knew it. The twin elflings were adorable, and special. Her heart had been won over as well, though she felt compelled to play the role of responsible adult.

"War is coming, whether we want it, or not." Bedwyr argued. "The attacks by orcs increase yearly. I, for one, will not stand by idle again, if our kindred make an alliance and stand against Morgoth."

"We can teach them what they need to know, Dilys." Fion argued. "You and Neirin and Heddwyn can teach them reading and writing and figuring; I can teach them hunting and weapon-craft; and Bedwyr and his apprentices can teach them basichealing. When they come of age, we can teach them whatever trade appeals."

"Very well." Dilys had known this was a losing battle. "But no one can know who they were, whose children they were. We shall not even tell them, until they come of age. They are young enough, and traumatized enough. They will quickly forget any life but this."

"Agreed." Stated Neirin firmly. "They're safer, and better off, away from all that, as elflings. When they come of age, they can make their own choice."

"They shall be Elboron and Eldun; no longer Elured and Eluin." Bedwyr suggested, adding "I will tell Eirian and Serenwen. They are taking turns keeping the elflings company; and they chatter constantly. By the time they are well, the poor boys will be calling themselves Elboron and Eldun."

And so it was.


	2. Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation and conversation in the healers' tent during the War of Wrath, between the young Lords Elros and Elrond, and Elboron of the Wood. The Elboron who had been born Elured of Doriath, the brother of Elwing and so the uncle of Elros and Elrond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story takes place in First Age year 564. Elrond and Elros are 32 years old. Elured/Elboron is 64 years old. Elves generally reach their majority when they turn 50 years old, and their full physical maturity upon reaching 100 years of age. But with individuals who are almost half-human, like Elrond and Elros, they tend to age much more like humans than elves. And with beings who have at least a quarter of human blood, they don't age quite like elves, either.

The battlefield was horror and agony. The healers' tent after the battle was much worse, at least in the considered opinion of the Laiquendi soldier Elboron. He'd rather be almost anywhere other than here, holding his childhood friend in his arms as she keened in pain. 

"Shh, Serenwen." He whispered in the Nandorin language of their shared youth, "Calm thyself. All will be well, dear friend." 

Serenwen's pale green eyes flickered towards him, disbelief and fear writ across her features. 

He just held her more tightly, leaning forward to press a kiss gently against her forehead. Their faces shielded by the midnight dark curtain of his hair, he whispered, "This day is not your last. You will heal, and live to pester me for many years." 

Serenwen managed a laugh which quickly turned into a choked sob. Elboron held her hand all the more tightly, waiting with her for a healer to return to them. 

Elboron really did think that all would be well for his friend. True, a bloody great orc sword had cut into Serenwen's side, just above her waist. A rib was broken, at least one. But the wound bled clean, or so it seemed to Elboron. His own twin brother had healed worse, during the years when the orcs' patrols came so very close to discovering their village. And Eldun had not had the aid and wisdom of healers from Aman, some of whom had trained with the Valar, Irmo and Este and Yavanna. Besides that, Serenwen was fully elven, and would heal fast. If Elboron was ever injured thusly, it would at the least be a closer question. For Elboron had been born Elured of Doriath. Elured's grandfather, Beren, had been human. And Elboron sometimes showed the weaknesses of that heritage. 

His temper and his impatience, however, he could lay at his father Dior's feet. Or perhaps at his grandfather Elu's. Either way, Elboron was losing patience. He had understood, at first, why Serenwen's care must wait. She was pained, but stable. The blood loss through the clean bandages Elboron had found to press to her side was sluggish, while elves and men had been bleeding to death around them when first they arrived. But now the tide had slowed, and if a healer didn't come to see Serenwen soon, then Elboron would MAKE one come over and care for his friend. He could, if he had to. He wasn't just Beren's grandson; he was Luthien's, as well. 

As it turned out, he didn't have to use either his temper or his ...gift of persuasion. 

"Hello," a soft tenor greeted them, as a slender form moved to stand beside Serenwen. "I am Elrond, an apprentice healer. Let me see what I can do to help you." 

Elboron had been prepared to make a sarcastic comment, but this was the first time he'd ever been face-to-face with one of his twin nephews. His baby sister Elwing's sons. Who had spoken in favor of the monsters who had ended Elured and Elurin's world. The sons of Feanor, who had slain their parents and cut down their guards and nurses in front of their young faces. Elrond, his sister-son, who, along with the other healers, had been ignoring them for the better part of an hour. It was the last which heated Elboron's temper to the boiling point. 

"You could HELP by treating her." Elboron said harshly, "We've been waiting here, Serenwen with a bloody great gash in her side, while you and the other blue-robed fools were muttering and studying elves who look PERFECTLY FINE." 

Elrond, however, wasn't paying much attention to Elboron. His attention was focused on Serenwen. Elboron was struck dumb for a moment, by how alike this nephew of his was to his own twin Eldun. Eldun who had been born Elurin. Elrond was sweeter, though. Eldun would have been angry at his patient for getting hurt in the first place. Well, Eldun would never have come to war. The first real argument Elboron and Eldun had ever had, was about Elboron going with Fion and Bedwyr to join the war effort. And then about Serenwen joining them, when the War of Wrath dragged on into its second decade. 

Nine years later, they were still futilely engaged with Morgoth's forces in a bloody slog along the River Sirion. Elboron was beginning to lose hope that anything would ever change. He was amazed, some days, that the Sirion did not run red with all of the blood that had been spilt into it. Well, red and black both. The humans and the elves bled red, as did the maiar. But the orcs and trolls bled black, black as darkest night. Elboron had always been too terrified to notice what color the vampires, balrogs, and dragons bled. He'd helped to fell them, for he was not as overwhelmed by their foulness as most. But he'd always been too busy to notice the details, beyond the horror and the big teeth and the foul stench. 

"You've done very well." Elrond praised Serenwen as he unwound the bandage from the wound on her side, "I need you to hold on for me just a little while longer, please." 

Elrond's gray eyes flickered to Elboron then, finally deigning to notice him. "Put pressure...here." Elrond commanded, just as he removed the bandage. Elboron obeyed, in large part because his nephew Elrond sounded so much like his own twin. 

Serenwen gasped, and squeezed Elboron's hand more tightly. The pressure he and Elrond placed above and below Serenwen's waist kept the wound from bleeding too badly, but her face still changed from pale to chalk-white. Elrond was just examining the wound, not even stitching it yet. 

"Aren't you done yet?" Elboron demanded sharply. 

"There's some infection." Elrond murmured in reply, his face intent with concentration. 

"It looks clean to me." Elboron countered. 

"Mmm." Elrond replied. "Nallos!" He called softly. 

An exasperated red-headed warrior appeared at Elrond's right side, clad in healer's robes over his blood-stained armor. Elboron recognized him as one of the young Noldorin King's friends, although the red hair made his eyes narrow. The only other fire-haired elves he'd ever seen had been chasing him, bloody weapons in hand, death in their eyes. His death, or that of any one else who stood between them and a jewel whose appeal the young Elured hadn't even understood. Still didn't understand. Still thought, in fact, that his sister had been a fool to abandon her children for. It had driven them into the arms of the sons of Feanor, it had made them into deluded traitors towards their own people. And soft ones, who had grown up safe and secure in their cousin the King's home, under the care of their great-uncle Cirdan, and in the company of their great-uncle Celeborn. Who was Elured's great uncle, too. Elboron missed him. 

At times, Elboron desperately wanted to go to his Uncle Celeborn or to his Uncle Amdir, whom he was sure would recognize him, and tell them everything. About how he and Elurin had been seized by servants of Celeborm Feanorion, after the murder of their guards and attendants. About how those foul servants had carried the terrified twins far into the dark, cold forest, and abandoned them there. About how the mocking laughter of those Noldor as they left him and his twin to die would haunt Elured forever. And even more so the sweet, false entrietes of Maedhros Feanorion, offering them his protection. Elured and Elurin had hidden, and when someone of the Line of Luthien wants to stay hidden, then they STAY HIDDEN. Then Elured and Elurin had fled, wandering through the woods for two weeks, alone and afraid and desperately hungry and cold. The secretive Nandor of the village of Denethor's rest had taken them in, healed them and fed them and loved them and taught them. The elders of Denethor's rest had given them new names, to protect them, and the village. For many years, Elboron and Eldun had lived happily and safely in the village, barely remembering that they had been born to luxury and duty, born the Princes Elured and Elurin of Doriath. How it had been traumatic for them, when the elders took them aside and reminded them of their identities and the fate associated with who they truly were. And of the relief in the faces of those loving elders, when Eldun- Elurin - convinced Elboron - Elured, that they would stay in the village. That what had been forgotten would stay forgotten, and Elured and Elurin would be no more. 

Elboron yearned to lay all of this on the laps of his uncles, yearned to be acknowledged and embraced by them, safe again in the circle of their love and regard. Well, as safe as anyone was during this hellish war. But none of that could be, for he had promised his twin, promised Eldun that he would not give them away. Eldun wanted to remain in the village, remain safe and safe-guarding those elves who had truly saved their lives. Celeborn and Amroth and the other Sindar had not saved them, that horrible day when the sons of Feanor came a-calling. But the village of Denethor's rest had saved them. They were safe there, and they kept the village safe. "Of the Line of Luthien" means something, after all. Even untrained, Elboron and Eldun, born Elured and Elurin, were a force to be reckoned with. 

Eldun had hated Elboron's leaving for war. But they had reached an agreement - Elboron would go, but he would come back after. And he would never reveal who they were, or that they had lived. He would never bring their true fate back to the village, to threaten their dearly beloved foster family, including Eldun's new wife Eirian, who was Serenwen's best friend. 

In his distraction, Elboron had missed the initial confrontation between his nephew Elrond and this "Nallos." And another healer had joined them. Bedwyr, the only healer whom Elboron truly trusted, because he, too, was from the village of Denethor's Rest. 

"Hmm. Yes, there is contamination. A good catch, young Elrond." Bedwyr praised, one hand gently holding the shoulder of Serenwen, who was like a niece to Bedwyr. 

"It is only a slight infection, Serenwen." Bedwyr continued reassuringly as Nallos grudgingly handed Elrond one unguent after another, "It will heal without troubling you greatly, my dear child. But to let it, you will have to remain here, in the healer's tent, for at least the next day. So that we can keep an eye on the wound, and make sure that it is well on the way to healing properly." 

"Elrond," Nallos protested, "I was supposed to find you and bring you to Aran Ereinion. I was NOT supposed to get drafted by you to spend hours helping in the healer's tent." 

"Shut up and hand me the disinfectant." Elrond said, his voice still calm and soothing, but his manner sharp enough to indicate that if Nallos didn't do as he was told, he would face the wrath of one Lord Elrond the Healer Apprentice, for whatever that was worth. 

"We ARE going to talk about this later, Bratling." Nallos murmured softly, but he did hand Elrond the disinfectant. Elrond completely ignored him, which amused Elboron a little bit. 

Instead, Elrond regarded Serenwen, his grey eyes soft with empathy. "The disinfectants will completely cleanse your wound, Serenwen. And then we will soothe it with herbs and unguents which promote healing, and wrap it lightly." 

Serenwen nodded bravely. Elrond hesitated then, as did Elboron. Elboron wasn't about to let an elleth who was like his own little sister stay awake through the pain which would be this procedure. He would put her to sleep if he had to, just use his voice to command it. But he didn't want to do that in front of Elrond, who might notice that it was odd. 

Fortunately, Elrond spared Elboron the decision. Elrond commanded in a sonorous voice, "Sleep, Serenwen. Sleep and feel no pain. Sleep and heal." Serwenwen's pale eyelashes fluttered shut, and her breathing became more regular, more peaceful. Only then did Elrond begin cleaning and dressing the wound. Elboron marveled a bit at how deft and careful this nephew of his was. Elrond Peredhel, only thirty-two years old, and already a healer. Eldun had been much the same, though not until his forties. And Elrond did have more human blood, besides. He looked almost a full grown man at thirty two, while Elboron and Eldun had not seemed full grown until their early forties. 

Elrond and Bedwyr discussed the care instructions for Serenwen's wound, with Bedwyr agreeing to stay in the healer's tent and take another shift keeping an eye on Serenwen and some of the other wounded. It was at that point that the elf Nallos roughly grabbed Elrond's upper arm, as if to tug him away. 

"You." Nallos said sternly, "Should be ashamed of yourself. You are three hours late to meet your King, and you have treated his messenger - me- quite shamefully, besides." 

"You." Elrond countered twisting aside slightly, "Must keep your voice down in this healing tent, or I will by Eru have you removed, and banned from entry for the foreseeable future." 

Bedwyr chuckled. "You had better listen to the lad, Nallos Canyavasion. He'd do it." 

Nallos was the next thing to fuming, which improved Elboron's mood a bit. He hadn't liked how the Noldorin soldier had been standing beside Elrond complaining, and not seeming to care at all about poor injured Serenwen right there in front of them. Elboron also liked that his nephew had a bit of a spark to him. Elrond might have been taken in by Noldor, but they hadn't entirely made him soft, or uncaring of other elves. Elboron might even be able to LIKE Elrond. Which would be nice, for his sister's sake. Even if it made his "not let on that I'm your uncle" plan a bit harder. 

Mouth agape, Nallos happened to accidentally look at Serenwen. Really look at her. 

"Dancing Naked Valar! She's an elleth!" 

"Your powers of observation are truly stunning." Elrond replied, with a quelling frown, "In fact, how does the Enemy ever get past you?" 

"Behave, Elrond." Bedwyr scolded, turning more sympaethically to Nallos, "Yes, she is the niece of my heart. She trained in the arts of combat to protect our village, and then came to join the war as soon as she was of age." 

"Ellith have no place in the ugliness of battle!" Nallos objected, horrified. 

Elrond smirked, "I will PAY YOU to say that in front of Aunt Galadriel." Nallos paled. 

Wincing, Elboron added sotto voice, "Not enough." It could never be enough. Elboron - Elured - did not have many memories of his Aunt Galadriel. But one did not tell her than an elleth couldn't do something. One just didn't. 

"Still, what a brave elleth." Nallos said, looking at Serenwen with wonder and admiration. Then he nodded decisively, "I will stay with her, Elrond. You may take Captain Saryando with you, and explain to Ereinion yourself why you are so tardy replying to his summons." 

Elrond didn't seem at all intimidated by that prospect, although Elboron wasn't sure if he like the idea. He did not want to leave his friend Serenwen alone with this idiot of a Noldor soldier. Well, and Bedwyr. In retrospect, Bedwyr could probably handle the idiot, and Elboron needed to sleep. He hadn't slept in days, and he couldn't do that without suffering. He wasn't fully an elf, and sometimes that mattered. Bedwyr knew it, and was covering for him. It was a covert message for Elboron to go and get some sleep, and if Elboron didn't take the hint, then Bedwyr and Fion would hold him to account for it, later. 

Elboron nodded stiffly. "Take care of her." He commanded Bedwyr. 

The old healer rolled his eyes tolerantly, "Of course, Elboron. Do get some sleep." 

Elboron was almost to the exit of the tent when one of those patients who had looked perfectly fine suddenly started spewing vast quantities of blood onto the floor. 

"Vampire bites can be tricky." Remarked Elrond, from just behind Elboron's right shoulder. 

Elboron felt a bit guilty, for having verbally abused Elrond and the other healers for caring for such apparently hale elves before Serenwen, when apparently their status could go from stable to possibly bleeding out in a matter of seconds. His nephew, meanwhile, had moved to the heaving patient's side. Calmly, competently, Elrond helped two other healers to ease some kind of mask over the face of the vampire-bitten elf. At first the mask just filled up with blood, and they had to hold it there. But then the fumes from the herbs being burnt in a pot attached to the mask by a pipe started to take effect, and the vampire-bitten elf relaxed. Elboron watched in horrified wonder as Elrond and the other healers set to cleaning the poor elf up, evaluating how much blood he'd lost, and their best estimations as to what his future care would entail. 

Only when that conference was over did Elboron notice a shadow behind Elrond's shoulder. A shadow, a mirror-image of Elrond. Elrond writ somehow fiercer and lighter all at once. The average elf or man might have thought the two beings perfectly identical, but Elured was also part-elven, part-human, part-maiar, and had a twin of his own. To Elboron, Elrond and Elros were at least as dissimilar as Elboron and Eldun, and possibly even more so. In the future, Elboron would instantly be able to identify whichever twin nephew he happened across with perfect accuracy. 

"Come on, gwanur-nin." The fiercer Elros insisted, hooking his arm around Elrond's with a soft smile that was just for Elrond, just for Elrond being safe and sane and hale after the day's battle and its aftermath. A smile just for Elros being glad to see his Elrond. In that moment, Elboron felt the pain of missing his own twin intensely, like a knife through to his heart. 

Elboron stood still for an instant, and so he crossed the threshold of the healing tent out into the anonymous night at almost the same time as his twin nephews. He wasn't going to address them. He was grateful for Elrond's competent and kind care of Serenwen, but he did not want to get to know them. But he couldn't help himself. 

Against his own will, Elboron called out, "You are the Peredhil?

With a tired grin, Elros asked, "How many other sets of part-human, part-elven, part maiar twins do you know wandering about Middle Earth?" Under his breath, Elros added, "Who are foolishly not permitted to join in the fighting even though they are well more than of age for part-elves." 

With an affectionate, chiding look for his brother Elros, Elrond answered, "Yes, soldier Elboron, we are the Peredhil." 

"And being Peredhel," Elros quipped, "We need to sleep. Even you, gwanur." 

Elrond rolled his eyes, and Elboron dared to bring up the subject he had promised himself he would not. 

"Forgive me," Elboron began, "I just wanted to ask - you were both fostered by the sons of Feanor?" 

His twin nephews exchanged a speaking look, before turning to regard Elboron again, this time with sympathy in the depths of their bright gray eyes. 

"You are Iathrim?" Elrond asked.

Elboron's chest ached as he admitted, "Yes." 

The twins nodded, and apparently decided to answer the question. "We were fostered by Maglor." Elros said. "He found us, and took us with him, after the attack on Sirion."

"Arguably," Elrond added quietly, neutrally, "he saved our lives. He certainly assured our survival."

Elros made a rude noise. "Personally, I think we could have survived just fine, at least until someone came to check on what happened to Sirion."

Elrond shrugged, an eminently human gesture, "We might have, Elros. Or we might have not. Others of Maglors' elves might have killed us on sight, and there were orcs, and outlaw humans about as well." 

"And don't forget the landsharks." Elros added, with an impish grin. 

Elrond rolled his eyes, "I've told you and told you, Elros, that it was just a tale the older mariners came up with, to keep elflings and little children away from the water when there were no adults...."

"Come on." Elros disagreed, reaching forward to shove Elrond lightly, "You were more scared of landsharks than I, in the cave by Sirion."

Elrond, changing the subject, "Maglor was kind to us, Elboron. And later, Maedhros allowed us his protection as well. That kept us safe for the few months before our return to the custody of Lord Cirdan could be arranged. 

Elboron was overwhelmed. He took a ragged breath, and managed, "I am glad that you lived. Glad that you aided Serenwen, this night. But why? Why did the monstrous sons of Feanor save the two of you, after Doriath? After Sirion?

Elrond and Elros shrugged, and said "We don't know." In perfect unison. 

Elrond leaned forward a bit, and added, "Maglor's own twin brothers died at Sirion. Perhaps that was why."

"Perhaps he admired my crayfish catching technique. I was quite the little outdoorsman. I'd have taken me home, too." Elros jested. 

Elboron reccoiled back at that inappropriate levity. The sons of Feanor had killed his parents, these children's grandparents and kin and friends, and yet Elros saw it as a light enough matter to be fit to joke about? Perhaps this was the type of weakness, in his twin nephews, which had led them to speak in favor of the Feanorions being invited to join the allied armies in the War of Wrath.

"How could you joke like that?" Elboron whispered after a moment, "The sons of Feanor, they...they were monsters. Worse than orcs. How can you make jests, about such foul, traitorous, murderous, scum?

Elrond and Elros exchanged another speaking look, and in this one, Elboron could read sorrow and sympathy and pain. 

'Twas Elrond who spoke at last, "The sons of Feanor and their followers were just elves. Like other elves, or men, for that matter. Never all good or all bad." 

Elros, ferocity entering his tone, picked up the narrative, "Celegorm, for instance, was said to be kind to his hounds." Elros quailed a bit, as he saw Elboron's growing annoyance with his jests. Sobering, Elros explained further, "Look, some of their followers knew nothing of the kinslayings until after they occurred. Some of the kinslayers were loving fathers and brothers to their own families, who never knew them for killers. Others were ... twisted. Not unlike orcs, I suppose. But I've known elves who weren't sons of Feanor, who have become just as twisted by war and loss as any of the Feanorions." 

"I, too." Agreed Elrond, "And there were some amongst the Feanorions who were kind to us. For instance, Maglor did not like making war on children or elflings, although he did do so. And Maedhros was much the same." 

"'Twas servants of Celegorm's who left our twin uncles to die in the wilderness." Elros explained, that ferocity darkening his eyes, "Maedhros actually looked for them, and would have saved them, as well, had he found them." 

Elboron took a deep breath, shocked. Celeborm's servants he remembered, could never forget. And his nephews were angry, on his behalf, nay, furious even, that the servants of Celegorm should have treated their lost uncles so. And if what Elrond and Elros said was true, then the entreaties and promises of Maedhros Feanorion had been true. He would have found Elured and Elurin, and kept them safe from his brothers. He would in time have delivered them to their Great Uncle Cirdan, who could have returned them to Uncle Amdir. Elboron had to fight back tears, at realizing that might have been his future. Safe with their beloved kin. And it only would have taken one moment of trust. One moment of trust that they had had no reason to feel. 

But...but what if it still hadn't been true. What if the sons of Feanor had just said so, to Elrond and Elros. Why wouldn't they make that up? Why had they taken in his twin nephews in the first place? Elboron still hadn't heard a real answer, to that question. But still, Elboron could hear now, quite clealry in his memories, the sound of a firm, determined, but not unkind voice calling for Elured and Elurin in apparent desperation. Elured and Elurin had been so scared, by then, and the birds had seemed to know where they were going, that the twins had hidden, and fled, and kept on fleeing. Softly, still feeling the weight of all of those memories, all of those what-ifs, Elboron asked, "How can anyone know, that Maedhros would have saved Elured and Elurin? And why did Maglor save you? They killed so many....and there were children, I'm told, among the dead at Sirion. Other than the two of you." 

Elrond nodded solemnly, "There were." 

Finding himself furious, Elboron snapped, "And yet still, some of the Noldor -and you, the two of you who should KNOW BETTER - you would invite the sons of Feanor to fight beside us!

"Well, we could use them." Elros said, straightforward and irritated, a soldier down to talking brass tacks. He spoke like a logistician setting up his board, "We got our earliest lessons in tactics and strategy from Maglor, and for a harper, he made quite the soldier. Maedhros...he's the best soldier I think I've ever met. He could think like Morgoth. Predict what the Enemy's lieutenants would do." 

Very softly, Elrond added, "We think fewer of us would die, if the sons of Feanor were helping to plan this campaign. Eonwe, Ingwion, and Finarfin are brave, capable, and well-intentioned, but their tactics and strategy are a bit dated." 

Elros made a rude noise. "You're being tactful again, Elrond gwanur-nin. Eonwe's training is dated, and cousin Ingwion, Uncle Finarfin, and most of the elves who came with the Valar may be powerful, but in terms of training for actual battles, they received Finrod Felagund's "Quick Lessons in War," and not much else. Honestly, the blunders they made during the first decade alone..." 

Elrond nudged his brother, and Elros shook his head, dropping the subject. 

Elboron was still appalled, "How...how could we trust them? The sons of Feanor, who killed other elves for a ....a thing, and might again, as soon as we win?

Elros shrugged, "Well, its not our decision." 

Not to be defeated by such shoddy logic, Elboron snorted, and countered, "And if it was?" 

Elrond blinked, "I ...I ...don't know. I understand why some elves hate them, could never fight beside them." 

Elros was more thoughtful now, too, "I don't know either, actually. I could fight by Maglor and Maedhros, and their gwedyr, and some of the others, but not beside all of their retainers and servants. There was a reason we got ourselves shipped off to Uncle Cirdan, but quick."

Elboron's eyes narrowed at that. He didn't like the idea of anyone hurting his nephews. The ones he wasn't going to let himself become close to. 

Elrond sighed, "Some of their elves are quite kind, or at least as good as any other elves you'll meet. Others lack the redeeming qualities of the oldest sons of Feanor."

Elboron could sense a story - and part of him wanted to ask - but he still couldn't believe. "You love him? They say that you came to love Maglor?"

Elros made a face, and even Elrond's full lips puckered up into a moue of distaste. But to Elboron's surprise, their upset was not at the accusation of lbearing love for a son of Feanor. Rather, it was at the elves and men gossiping about them behind their backs.

"We should find out who this "they" is, gwanur-nin, who always speaks of us." Elros said, mischievous, wicked ideas for retaliation dancing in his eyes. 

Elrond rolled his eyes. "The fun of being the Peredhil." Then he looked at Elboron measuringly, eyes searching. After a few moments, Elrond looked to Elros, communicating silently yet again. In that moment, Elboron missed his own twin again.

After another moment, Elros explained in a serious but gentle tone of voice "We came to love Maglor, yes. But we hated him too."

Elrond continued, "We never forgot that he saved us and was kind to us. And we honor him, and owe him, for that. But we also never forgot that it was he whose sword slayed our friends and neighbors, and our kinsmen."

"Part of us would like to see him and Maedhros find some measure of redemption, by helping to defeat Morgoth." Explained Elros. 

"But part of us never wants to see him again, or think of him either." Elrond concluded, his grey eyes burdened with sorrow. 

"I...I thank you for your time." Elboron said, swallowing back both a sob and a recrimination, "And I am very sorry to have made you remember unpleasant things." 

His twin nephews exchanged another searching look, then nodded. Turning to face Elboron, the twins replied. 

"We do not speak of these things often." 

"But we will speak of them with you again, if you wish it." 

And then the twins walked off into the night, in the direction of the brightly lit tents of Ereinion Gil-Galad. There, many of their kin gathered, and there would be good, warm food, and kind, loving company. 

Elboron walked quietly off in the direction of the tent he shared with a dozen or so other Laiquendi who were fighting with the Falathrim units. The tent was quiet, too, when he arrived, and not really warm. But he struck up the brazier, and it got a bit warmer. And his friends Fion and Drystan woke up enough to make room for him between their bodies. Snugly covered by blankets, buffered by the warm body of a caring friend on either side of him, Elboron slid safely on to the path of dreams. It wasn't a wide, luxurious tent with his long-lost kin. But it was not a bad place to be, either. And while Celeborn and Amdir and even his little twin nephews talked long into the night of strategies and numbers, Elboron could sleep the sweet peaceful slumber of the soldier who needn't bother with any of that. Which was wonderful, except sometimes, Elured really did want to have a say in all of that. But Eldun didn't, and Elboron owed his twin. So he'd keep his peace, and enjoy his sleep.


	3. Shattered; Unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War of Wrath was a difficult time for Celeborn, and Elrond's new guard Elboron was a hard ellon to track down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story takes place in approximately First Age year 567. Elrond and Elros are 35 years old. Elured/Elboron is 67 years old. Elves generally reach their majority when they turn 50 years old, and their full physical maturity upon reaching 100 years of age. But with individuals who are almost half-human, like Elrond and Elros, they tend to age much more like humans than elves. And with beings who have at least a quarter of human blood, they don't age quite like elves, either. 
> 
> In the earlier chapter "Unspoken," which takes place in First Age year 564, it is mentioned that Elros and Elrond aren't allowed to fight in the War. Elrond and Elros took matters into their own hands in year 565, and ran away to join the armies of the Edain (the humans). To the human generals, the 33 year old peredhil seemed more than old enough to fight. And through their human grandfather Tuor and their human great-grandfather Beren, the twins had kin willing to claim them amongst the human armies. When Aran Ereinion and Lord Cirdan figured out what the twins were up to, there was quite a stir (see the ficlet "Oh...umm, hi, Ereinion?" available at http://archiveofourown.org/works/214270/chapters/336804). However, the fall-out was that Elrond and Elros were permitted to continue fighting with the human armies, provided that they were accompanied by guards approved by their cousin Aran Ereinion and their guardian Lord Cirdan. Elboron was one of those guards.

Celeborn Galadhonchil was not really at his best, during the War of Wrath. The fall of Doriath a mere four decades previous had absolutely shattered Celeborn Galadonchil. In one night, Celeborn had lost mother, brother, niece, great-nephews, and many cousins, including his best friend Celepharn. All of his friends and his countrymen, gone. The Iathrim as a people, gone. And the Kingdom of Doriath destroyed, beyond hope of resurrection. All Celeborn had to care for, at first, was his little great-niece Elwing. His niece Queen Nimloth's daughter had been smuggled away from the Palace at Menegroth during the attack, by her clever and resourceful nurses and attendants. Celeborn and Galadriel had installed little Elwing and her retinue in their townhouse on the Isle of Balar, which had been a slightly snug fit. 

Not long afterward, it was with profound relief that Celeborn greeted his cousin Oropher, Celepharn's heir, and the Sindar Oropher had managed to gather and lead forth on a perilous journey from the ruins of Doriath. It was a miracle that Oropher had managed to rescue as many Sindarin elves as he had. A miracle again, that Celeborn's own nephew Amdir was amongst them, as were Celepharn's second son Vehiron and his grandson Saeldur. Their entire group wouldn't fit in Celeborn's town house, so Galadriel had gone to her nephew Ereinion, the young King of the Nargothrondhrim in exile, and to their uncle, Cirdan Lord of the Falas, who had granted the Sindar leave to remain on Balar. Galadriel had paid for living quarters for the displaced exiles, but that was still not enough for Celeborn to forgive her, not at first. 

For at the same time Doriath was attacked, Celeborn had been far away on the Isle of Balar, supporting his wife as she aided her nephew the young Noldor King Ereinion. Until he sailed West, Celeborn would feel guilty that he had not been there, when Doriath fell. And Celeborn was not the only one, to blame himself for that. Many of the Iathrim believed that if he had been there, events might have played out differently, better. Celeborn himself did not know if he would go that far, but he thought that he might have at least been able to persuade Dior to take the warnings more seriously. Celeborn blamed himself, and he blamed his wife Galadriel. Of what use was it to have a seeress as a wife, if she could not even foresee the death of almost everyone he had ever cared about? Galadriel said that she had not known this would happen, had seen no vision specific enough to pertain to Doriath, nothing more specific than that there was darkness, all around them, consuming Middle Earth. She said that she had not truly believed that her cousins the sons of Feanor would do such a horrible thing, ever again. 

Celeborn did believe her. She had never lied to him, and she had been similarly blind-sided by Nargothrond's betrayal of Finrod, and by the later fall of Nargothrond. And in general, he knew that his love's gift pertained more to large-scale events, subtle things or small pieces of important events happening over time, rather than to specific disasters. The closer Galadriel was emotionally to a possible chain of future events, the more trouble she had seeing it clearly. She could see that Morgoth was building his army, that war or annihilation were going to be their only choices. But she could not see, at least not with any reliability, if Celeborn's horse was going to break its leg in a rabbit hole and throw him tomorrow. Or whether a member of their household was about to board a boat which would sink that day. Galadriel was not good at predicting the futures of those individuals she loved and cared for. 

But still, Celeborn had not fully reconciled to his wife, after the fall of Doriath. She did not mourn it as he did. Practically everyone he loved except for Galadriel had died that day. For Galadriel, the fall of Doriath was a tragedy only because it was a tragedy for Celeborn, whom she loved. Oh, Galadriel did mourn the lost potential of his young great-nephews and the young Queen and King, and she felt deep sorrow at the deaths of Celeborn's brother Galithil and his wife, and of Celeborn's grandfather Elmo and his wife. She grieved for Oropher and Vehiron, for the loss of their parents and grandparents. And she was furious and mournful and grieving all at once, that it had been her first cousins who had perpetuated one of the largest mass murders in the history of their world. But for Galadriel, the fall of Doriath had not shattered her world. Mostly, she hadn't even liked the elves of Doriath, save for Melian and Luthien, who had already left. And being Galadriel, she did not trouble herself to hide that from her husband. For one of the first times in their relationship, he rather wished that she was more willing to lie to him. And even more, Celeborn wished that she could have cared for his family, his people, as he cared for hers. But her brothers and her nephew had welcomed Celeborn with open arms, whereas his family....had not. "Grudging tolerance" was the best which could be said of their welcome of her. 

Still, Celeborn could not help but resent that Galadriel was less affected than he by the kinslaying at Doriath, and so matters were sometimes strained between him and his beloved wife, after the fall of Doriath. And events had moved very quickly, after that. Less than a year later, Gondolin fell, and Sirion was founded by the survivors of Doriath and Gondolin. Within three decades, Sirion itself was destroyed by his wife's kin. Then Earendil and Elwing reached the West, and the the Host of the Valar came to relieve them. The War of Wrath had begun. 

Celeborn still felt shattered, going into this greatest of wars. Galadriel was burdened by many of the same sorrows and losses - her brothers' deaths; Nargothrond; Doriath; Gondolin; Sirion. And she was greatly troubled by the distance which had grown up between them, the loss of the closeness he and she had previously shared. But Galadriel had the gift of focusing only on the problem at hand, and she excelled in a crisis. Any crisis. Celeborn had a harder time, with that. Many matters which would not have escaped his attention had he been himself, did slide under his radar during the War of Wrath. Which he felt was almost criminally negligent of him, as he was the officer commanding the few Sindar who had cared to join the Host. 

Galadriel, meanwhile, rode at Ereinion's right elbow, helping him to command the surviving Noldorin elves from Nargothrond and Gondolin. There were whole weeks during which Celeborn did not see his wife outside of councils of war. She had her tent in the Noldorin camp, with her own ladies and squires and lieutenants. And he shared a pavilion with his nephew and second-in-command Amdir, in the Sindarin camp. When they did meet, away from the eyes of others, they held one another close. For even though he resented her, he loved her too, and she loved him. They knew that each battle could be their last, and both would have been devastated if at their last meeting they had not expressed that love. 

As the War of Wrath wore on and on, Celeborn found himself more numb than shattered. He was also very busy, for to Celeborn fell the command of the Laiquendi, the wood-elves, who had joined the Host. Ever and always the Laiquendi had looked to Doriath for protection and guidance, and Celeborn was the senior surviving member of the Iathrim royal family. So most of the Laiquendi chose to attach themselves to the Sindarin levies. But not all. Some of the woodelves had kin amongst the elves of the Falas or, more rarely, the Noldor, and chose to fight beside their kinfolk. There were too few of the wood elves to make much difference, in any case, although every sword was welcome.

There was one Laiquendi soldier who came to Celeborn's attention, although he never even saw the ellon. That was Elboron, one of the ellyn chosen by Ereinion and Cirdan to ride beside Elrond and guard his back during the battles.

"He's around here...somewhere. Check near the treeline, with the other Laiquendi." Elrond had replied distractedly, while stitching up a small but bloody head wound on one of the human soldiers. And Celeborn had had to accept that, for his nephew Elrond's mind was always focused on his work as a healer, both before and after battles. It made Celeborn worry for Elrond as a soldier, save that Elros and his guards were always with him.

The next day, Celeborn went to talk with Elros. 

"My twin got hurt the first time out," Elros had told Celeborn, in between greedy drinks from a flask of watered wine, "But he's paid attention, since then. He's not absent-minded when it matters. Not anymore."

"I would still like to meet all of his guards, nephew." Celeborn had told Elros firmly.

"Good luck." Elros had told him with good cheer and a typical cheeky grin, "Elboron is impossible to find both before and after battles. I think that he must have a secret sweetheart, or something. He's very good with Elrond, and quite a private fellow. I am grateful to him, and it seems impolite to ask."

At that, Celeborn had stared at Elros, since Elros had always been extremely impertinent, and considered the most shocking subjects fit for polite conversation.

"I can be gracious." Elros had told Celeborn with another grin, "It's just not normally the most effective tactic around all of you stuffed shirts."

That had made Celeborn laugh, for what else was one to do, with Elros? And besides, they had all needed laughter, in those dark days.

"Amdir," Celeborn had asked his nephew and second in command, that night, "What do you know of the Laiquende, Elboron?'

"My lieutenant, Teliengu, approves of him," Amdir had answered, "And that's good enough for me."

Not long after, Celeborn desisted from inquiring of the twins as to the location of their guards. Drystan, Ereinion, and the twins all trusted the Laiquende Elboron. Amdir and Teliengu had traveled together for decades, searching among the Laiquendi for the lost twins Elured and Elurin, and Teliengu trusted the hunter Fion, who had trained Elboron. That had to be enough, even for a diligent uncle such as Celeborn.

"You should try to meet him, if you can." Galadriel had told Celeborn, when he explained the situation to her. But she could not tell him why, because she did not why. And then Galadriel was badly wounded, again, not long after that. Any thought of finding Elrond's phantom guard - who seemed to be doing his job well- flew out of Celeborn's mind. And through out all of the many remaining years of the war, Celeborn never did see more of Elboron than a dark-haired shadow leaving Elrond's side at the end of one battle or another.

After the War of Wrath ended, Celeborn had no reason to ponder the whereabouts of Elrond's ghost-like Laiquendi guard. He had no reason to think of him, at least not until the beginning of the Third Age, when Elrond off-handedly mentioned that Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil were the great-grandsons of Elboron. And that just gave Celeborn another reason to be grateful to the unseen Elboron, and nothing more. For Celeborn, and almost everyone else, believed that Elured and Elurin had perished just after the fall of Doriath.


	4. The Lady's Squire part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a time during the War of Wrath, Elrond chose to serve as the Lady Galadriel's squire. That sometimes involved defending her honor off of the battlefield, and getting a fist in the eye for his troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in approximately First Age year 565. Elrond and Elros are 33 years old. Elured/Elboron is 65 years old. Elves generally reach their majority when they turn 50 years old, and their full physical maturity upon reaching 100 years of age. But with individuals who are almost half-human, like Elrond and Elros, I am speculating that they tend to age much more like humans than elves. And that with beings who have at least a quarter of human blood, they don't age quite like elves, either. During the war, Elboron is fighting in a company with the wood-elves who secretly adopted him and his twin. Elrond works as an apprentice healer, and of late also as Galadriel's squire. Elros turns his hand to a bit of everything, and especially often works with the armorers and blacksmiths.

"Ow. Ow ow ow." Young Lord Elrond complained. Elboron Dilysion held the younger peredhel's chin more tightly, and kept on cleaning his blackened eye and split lip. 

"For a healer, you're an awful patient." The wood-elf scout observed, torn between amusement and censure. And a bit of guilt, since he'd been the first to throw a punch and start the brawl in the course of which Elrond had been injured. It had been his secret nephew who had come to Elboron's defense. Even though Elrond had no idea that they were related. 

Elrond wrinkled his nose, possibly the only unbattered feature on his face. 

The half-Laiquendi, half-Falathrim Drystan Lendahyelion chuckled. "Our Elrond isn't accustomed to getting into fights. At least not without his twin Elros, who takes most of the punches." 

Elros was a hot-head, much like his uncle Elboron. Elrond, like Elboron's own twin Eldun, was more inclined to calm and quiet. Elrond was sweeter than Eldun, though. Which, in a way, had gotten him into this mess. Since a disastrous battle about a month ago, Elrond had been serving as squire to their mutual aunt, the Lady Galadriel. The two ladies-in-waiting who had fought at Galadriel's side were both killed on the same day. After a week or so, Elrond had stepped into their role, at least off of the battle field. 

Earendil and Elwing's twin sons were not yet permitted to fight. They were just barely thirty and three years old, a whole seventeen years shy of the elven age of majority. They did, however, manage to 'accidentally' encounter an impressive number of unplanned skirmishes, and both walked around the camps armed at all times. Elboron, who wanted his nephews to live, approved of that. He has his suspicions about how 'accidental' it was that the twins almost always knew when the lines would be breached - but he didn't ask questions. It wasn't his place. Although it would be, if their uncles knew that Elboron, who had been born Elured of Doriath, was alive and well. 

"Ah...ow." Elrond objected again, as Elboron moved on to examining a tear in his tunic which covered another impressive bruise. "Uncle Celeborn is going to murder me." The youngest twin said sadly. 

"Don't fuss, Elrond." Nallos Canyavasion said in his high, snooty voice. "We were involved as well." He did give Elboron a narrow-eyed glare as he said that. 

Elboron ignored it. He'd gotten to the point where he didn't outright dislike Nallos anymore, but he still didn't think that the spoiled Noldorin pretty-elf was good enough to be his friend Serenwen's beloved. Nor did he think it was Nallos' place to disapprove of anything he did, even if it had been getting Elrond into trouble. After all, a few good fights were character-building. It would be good for Elrond to get into more of them. 

"Besides," Drystan Lendahyelion added, "Once your uncle knows why we started the fight, I suspect that he'll let you off lightly. You - we- were most certainly provoked." 

Elrond shook his head. Elboron was inclined to agree with him. Celeborn, in Elured's memory, had always been fair and kind, but he did not forgive infractions, no matter how justly motivated, without imposing some form of discipline. Aunt Galadriel, on the other hand, had occasionally been willing to overlook one bit of mischief or another. Well did Elboron remember, from his youngest days when he had been Elured, creeping forward ever so quietly on his stomach beside his twin, ready to release a wicker cage full of fireflies into a fancy party taking up his parents' evening. Galadriel's blue eyes had spotted them, even though no one else had. 

'If I were you, I would wait until your great-grandmother and her ladies leave before unleashing your glow-bugs.' Her silvery, chiming voice had said, so that only they could hear. 

Elured would have discarded her advice, but Elurin had made him listen. They waited, and they didn't get into too much trouble for the prank. Their mother Queen Nimloth did not mind fireflies, and their father King Dior had indulged her in that, as in many other things. 

So, when Elboron and his fellow wood-elf scouts (and Nallos, who tagged along all of the time because of Serenwen) came across Elrond being mocked by some of the young Noldorin and Vanyaran soldiers for being his aunt's squire, it had offended Elboron on several levels. Elrond had been carrying his aunt's breastplate and greaves, which apparently needed dents hammered out of them. He'd been doing his best to ignore the cat-calling, even when it descended into vile imprecations that Elrond and his aunt were having a torrid affair. 

That had been too much for Elboron. He hadn't understood the words spoken by the foreigner elves, but he'd understood their cride gestures well enough. He'd decked the leader of the little gang. Elrond's jaw had dropped in surprise, but he'd quickly put down his aunt's armor and gone to Elboron's aid. Drystan, who loved a good fight, and Nallos, whom Elboron had previously viewed as something of a pansy off of the battlefield, also waded into the brawl. 

Serenwen had merely sighed, and picked up the Lady's armor so that it did not get trodden on in the fray. She called out to them to calm down and end their fight, but that did not work until Drystan got the youngest of Elrond's tormentors into a head lock. Then all involved had decided to forget that the fight had ever happened. No one wanted to explain the incident to their superior officers. 

None of Elboron, Nallos or Drystan had taken much damage during the fracas. Only Elrond was really hurt enough that anyone would notice. Elboron didn't envy his nephew having to answer to Uncle Celeborn. Or to Lord Cirdan or Aran Ereinion, although Elboron had never properly met them and didn't know what price they'd extract from the peredhel for getting into a fight. 

"I'm not going to tell Uncle Cel what the fight was really about." Elrond remarked softly, moving away from Elboron. "I'll just say that they were teasing me about not fighting. Those ellyn did bring that up, too. Elros and I being cowards, I mean." 

"Those sons of pigs." Elboron swore, "What right have they to call you anything? 'Tis well known that you would both be in the front lines were your kin to let you! Even those of us who are not so high and mighty know that." 

Elrond gave Elboron a curious look, half-gratified and half-confused. "Ah...thank you. I think. But we look old enough to join the army, now. And those who don't know us, they forget that we're not yet over our majority." 

"Huh." Commented Elboron, looking his nephew over. The peredhel was right - he did look full-grown. Not quite an elf, and not quite a human, but he certainly looked older than many of the humans who were fighting. And some of the younger elves, as well. For instance, Nallos and Serenwen. Elboron himself looked a little older than Elrond- the human blood, again. Or perhaps the Maiar. Although if anyone really knew how fast Maiar did or did not mature, they'd never shared that knowledge with Elboron. And Elured had been too young to care, let alone ask. 

Nallos sighed. "Elrond, if you don't tell your uncle the full story, you're going to get a strapping. And your foster-father and maybe even Ereinion will weigh in, as well." 

Elrond stared a the ground, appearing as if the weight of the world was on his slender shoulders. "Yeah. I know." He said to the dirt beside the Laiquendi camp fire, "But there is no way on Arda that I'm going to tell Uncle Cel that any idiot- and particularly those idiots with their powerful fathers - said those filthy, cruel things about Aunt Galadriel. Me getting into a fight is bad enough. HIM getting into a fight would be worse." 

"And you don't think that himself has better control that that?" Drystan said with a light laugh, ruffling Elrond's dark hair. 

Elrond smacked the hand away, making another face. "I think that he's under a lot of pressure. I think that he saw the blow that Aunt Galadriel took today, the one that dented her armor." Elrond gestured to the half-inch depression on the mithril breastplate still in Serenwen's hands. "And I think that all of you would be fools not to back me up when I say that I started the fight, and that you just got involved to keep me from getting hurt." 

Nallos looked like he was about to accept that offer. It made Elboron like him less. If Elboron wasn't trying to avoid being seen by his great-uncle - who WOULD recognize him - he would most certainly tell Celeborn that he'd started the fight. He wouldn't let Elrond take the heat for it alone. 

"I'll be telling your uncle that I got involved just because I don't like those idiots ." Drystan told Elrond, "Because I don't. And I was happy to have an excuse to hit them." 

Elrond started laughing. "Well, everyone already knows that you are insane." 

Drystan just grinned. 

Elboron watched the laughing Elrond. He was so accustomed to seeing Elrond act the solemn peredhel. Elrond and Elros were the mascots of the Host of Valinor and their allies. The young twins were encouraged to embrace that role, to speak kindly with everyone who wished to meet the children of Earendil and Elwing. Not to risk themselves, because they were more important as symbols than as beings. Elboron felt a bit insulted on their behalf, but even more than that, selfishly glad that no one knew him for the son of Dior and Nimloth, the uncle of these twins. He did not want that kind of fame. Being a soldier and a scout was more than enough to be getting on with.

As sudden as a gust of wind, a shadow appeared behind Elrond. The young healer turned to it with a soft, welcoming smile, for 'twas his twin, Elros. 

Elros, for his part, touched Elrond's bruised cheek ever so tenderly, and then turned to glare at Drystan and Nallos. 

"It wasn't their fault, gwanur." Elrond soothed. 

"It was mine." Elboron volunteered, willing to take his older twin nephew's wrath, for he'd earned it. 

"Was it, then?" Elros asked, midnight in his dulcet tones. "Then tell me why I shouldn't replicate every bruise and cut I see on my twin's body on your own pale, worthless skin?" 

"Elros!" Elrond scolded, smacking his brother's arm. "Stop being mean and....and creepy. Elboron didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done, aye, and faster than he." 

"Probably not faster." Elboron said generously, trying to be fair. "If I'd understood their language, I would have pummeled that overdressed fool and his friends even sooner. It wasn't until they started miming you, uh, 'with' your aunt that I realized what they were doing." 

"What!? They said what about Elrond and Galadriel?" Elros shouted. He patted his twin's shoulder reassuringly, and then turned to glare at Drystan and Nallos again. "And you two were doing what, again, that you didn't step in first?" 

"Elros, you can't have this both ways." Nallos said in exasperation, "Either we were supposed to keep Elrond OUT of trouble, or we were supposed to get him into it faster. Pick one thing or the other to be angry about, please." 

Elrond nudged his twin gently, and Elros dropped the subject. "Thank you." He said quietly to Elboron, and then, "Next time get me first, if you can." 

Elboron nodded gravely back. They had much in common, he and this nephew of his. 

"Aunt Galadriel dented her armor." Elrond remarked softly into the sudden quiet which had descended on the campfire. "Can you take it the armorers to fix, Elros? I wouldn't know who to go to, to start." 

Serenwen handed Elros the armor, as the older twin pursed his lips and examined it. "I could do the work myself, at this point, if it were just worked steel or an alloy. Since its mithril, I think it will have to be either Tincevon or maybe Celebrimbor. Baramor as a distant third." 

"Not Tincevon." Elrond and Drystan said at almost the same time. 

"Oh, by Nienna's tears, the two of you take paranoia too far. Tincevon may not LIKE our aunt, but he's hardly going to sabotage her armor." 

"Not Tincevon." Elrond repeated. 

Elboron hoped that Elros would listen to him. Like Elboron's own twin, Elrond seemed to have the gift of prophecy, even if he couldn't consciously use it yet. Actually, since Elboron didn't care whom he offended, he went ahead and told Elros, "Listen to your brother. Better safe than sorry, after all." 

While Elboron was marveling that those last words had ever escaped his mouth, since 'better safe than sorry' was his twin's principle not his, Elros was glaring at him again. Another nudge from Elrond had Elboron's older twin nephew sighing and waving a hand in defeat. 

"On your heads be it. Tincevon is the most skilled, but Celebrimbor isn't far behind him, and he and Baramor have the most experience working with mithril anyway. They don't have it in Aman." 

"Celebrimbor?" Elboron snapped back in condemnation, "Can't you do better than a kinslayer?" 

Elros surged forward towards Elboron, as if he might hit his aunt's defender himself for insulting a son of an orc. Elrond grabbed his twin around the waist, and pulled back. "Calmly, Elros!" Elrond snapped, and to Elboron's surprise Elros obeyed. Then Elboron felt the full weight of Elrond's insightful gray eyes fall upon him. 

"Our cousin Celebrimbor is NOT a kinslayer. He hasn't seen anyone in his father's family for almost a century. Celebrimbor left Nargothorond in protest of his father's usurpation of our uncle Finrod's kingdom, and has been in service to Lord Cirdan and then Aran Ereinion since then." Elrond explained quietly. 

"Oh." Elboron considered the matter. He still didn't like it, but better Celebrimbor than someone both Elrond and the surprisingly perceptive Drystan both had a bad feeling about. "That's alright, then, I suppose." 

"Oh, just shut up." Elros retorted, "Nobody even asked you." 

Elboron didn't particularly mind that. Much like Elros, if he had an opinion, he shared it. Serenwen, on the other hand, was more of a diplomat. 

"Lord Elros," she asked softly, "You seem to have learned a great deal about armor in the course of your apprenticeships with the smiths. Could you tell me what this buckle is for?" Serenwen's delicate hands indicated an extra buckle on Lady Galadriel's breast plate, one that looked oddly placed to Elboron. But then he didn't know much about plate armor, having never worn any. The Laiquendi mostly wore armor of boiled leather, if they had any at all. Because Elboron and Serenwen were both Fion's students and Fion believed in armor, they both had mail shirts as well as leather. 

"Oh, that's one that they add because of her...ah..." Elros paused, blushing. 

Elrond rolled his eyes. "Male and female physiology is different." He said, without a blush and as calmly as if he was explaining how to do something mundane, like sharpen a sword. "The better armorers take that into account, when crafting armor. An elleth's armor - or a human woman's - needs to bend differently, in order to absorb pressure differently. With plate armor, some craftsmen add extra buckles to absorb that difference. Chain mail they cut differently, and leather can actually be treated similarly to plate."

"So you DO listen when I talk...." Elros murmured, giving his brother an amused look. 

Elrond didn't even dignify that with a comment, although the sides of his mouth quirked into a small smile. 

"Here," Elros offered, stepping closer to Serenwen. "Your armor could use some adjustments. Stand up a bit straighter, and raise your arms. I can handle this myself, just tonight. You can come collect it tomorrow morning, or," Elros gave Nallos an impudent wink, "Or Nallos could take it to you tomorrow." 

"Elros..." Nallos hissed, "You will keep a civil tongue in your mouth regarding my beloved, or I will thrash you like the knave you are acting." 

Smiling charmingly at Serenwen, Elros assured them, "You know that I didn't mean anything by it, Nallos. Don't get your lacy girls' underthings all twisted up because of it." 

Elboron didn't bother to stifle his laugh. Yes, his older twin nephew was terribly rude, but he was funny. Especially since Elboron didn't like Nallos, either. 

"Ow!" Elros objected, as Drystan clipped him lightly over the ear. Wriggling away from the older soldier, he came closer to Serewen and asked her to lift her arms again. 

"Let Elros help you, Serenwen." Elboron advised firmly. He wanted his friend better protected, and if armor for an elleth was slightly different than armor for an ellon, then they'd get hers tailored. Elboron would figure out how to pay for it later, and he said so. 

"Please do not worry yourself on that account." Elrond said earnestly. "Our aunt the Lady Galadriel has a fund. Any ellith who join the army as warriors are given an allotment for armor and maintenance services for said armor." 

Elboron didn't like the idea of charity, but he liked the idea of Serenwen not being well-protected even less. And Serenwen, more accustomed to accepting favors from her Noldorin paramour and his friends, was simply grateful. 

Elboron barely heard the footsteps that approached them next. He had enough warning to turn his face to the shadows, before Lord Celeborn, looking at Elros's hands running all over Serenwen's flanks to measure her, snapped, "Elros Earendilion! WHAT are you doing?" 

"It's not what it looks like!" Elros replied frantically, "I'm just measuring her for armor!" 

The silver-haired elven commander scrutinized his great-nephew. "Then you should do so in the armorer's tents, where your laudable intentions will not be mis-perceived." 

"I'm sorry, Lord Celeborn." The horrified Serenwen said in near-frantic apology, wringing her slender hands. She was not normally a trembling elleth, but Lord Celeborn had quite the reputation. Elboron, observing the situation from around the barrel he had secreted himself behind, would not have wanted to have been on the end of Celeborn's green-eyed glare, either. Even if it was aimed mostly at Elros rather than Serenwen. 

The great Sindarin lord did not answer, for his piercing blue eyes had found Elrond. He moved swiftly to cup the youngest peredhel's bruised chin in his hand, peering closely at the injuries on his face. Elrond blushed and tried to drop his eyes. Celeborn kept a firm but gentle hold on the youth's face, forcing Elrond to meet his gaze. 

"Are you badly hurt?" Celeborn asked. 

"No." Elrond answered meekly. "I mean, No, Sir." 

"How did this happen, Elrond?" Celeborn asked, gently moving Elrond's face from right to left to get a better look at him. 

"I got into a fight." Elrond confessed, shame-faced. "Actually, I sort-of started a fight." 

Celeborn released him, and leaned back to scrutinize Elrond carefully. "I see." He said after a long pause. 

"Nallos and Drystan got involved, too, but only to keep me from getting hurt." Elrond added in a rush, bravely choosing to meet his uncle's eyes for a long moment. 

"No, I waded in because...." Drystan began, only to stop himself abruptly when Celeborn held up a hand. 

"Be silent, Lendahyelion." The great elf lord commanded. He surveyed all of the elves present, fortunately not seeing Elboron behind the barrel. 

"Is there anyone else here who was involved in the altercation, Elrond?" Celeborn asked. 

"No, Sir." Elrond answered, still meeting his uncle's eyes. Elboron's eyes widened in surprise and respect. Elrond Peredhel, only thirty-three years old, and already he could lie to one of Arda's most perceptive and powerful elves. It had to be a risky endeavor, even for one of Luthien's great-grandchildren. But Elrond was risking it, to keep Elboron out of this. Even though he couldn't know why Elboron didn't want to face the great Lord's justice, and must surely think Elboron a coward. 

"Uncle, please, this wasn't entirely Elrond's fault..." Elros began, quite bravely in Elboron's opinion, even though he tensed because Elros might be more than willing to drag Elboron's name into this. And Celeborn would recognize Elboron as Elured, there was no doubt in Elboron's mind about that. 

"I will speak to your twin myself, Elros, thank you." Celeborn said firmly. "And to the two of you as well, Drystan Lendahyelion and Nallos Canyavasion." 

Nallos winced. Drystan just nodded. Both were personal friends of the young King, Ereinion Gil-galad, who ruled all of the Noldorin elves remaining on Middle Earth, and who was often accounted as the overlord of the Falas as well. That didn't make Nallos and Drystan unafraid of facing Lord Celeborn's wrath - not even Elrond and Elros were that - but it did make the prospect seem somewhat less terrifying. 

While Elboron stayed hidden, Celeborn commanded Elrond, Nallos and Drystan to follow him, and sent a protesting Elros and Serenwen to the armorers' tents to accomplish their tasks. On the one hand, Elboron was glad not to be going to face Celeborn's wrath. On the other hand, he would have given almost anything for Celeborn to look at him as tenderly as he had Elrond. For Celeborn to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he now did for Elrond, even as angry and disappointed with Elrond's actions as their uncle must be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earlier chapters of "Tales of the Lost Twins" can be found: http://archiveofourown.org/works/535929/chapters/951528
> 
> Other stories about young Elros and Erond can be found at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/214270/chapters/321600 and http://archiveofourown.org/works/214270/chapters/345099 
> 
> Some of the OCs in this story also appear in other stories in the series. Drystan appears in "Tales of the Elves of Imladris," and he and Nallos both appear in "King or Carnival Elf?"


	5. The Lady's Squire part II

The next day found Elboron sweating with a shovel, helping other unfortunate souls to re-bury a particularly odoriferous privy trench. Worse, the outdoor sewer was downwind from not only several other privy trenches, but also the war-camp's tanners and butchers. Elrond's kindness had allowed Elboron to escape punishment from Lord Celeborn, but Elboron's own commanders, Fion and Bedwyr, had more than made up for that. Both older wood-elves knew that Elboron had been born Elured. They had risked their lives and the lives of their fellow villagers, their family and friends, to take in Elured and Elurin. They didn't want to lose Elboron to his noble family, to Elured's life which he and his twin had both left behind. But neither had they punished him for nearly coming to Celeborn's attention. In fact, if he desired to do so, they had promised to support him in seeking out his great-uncle Lord Celeborn or his uncle Lord Amdir. 

It touched Elboron's heart that they would make him such an offer. He could never take them up on it, never seek out the family he had been born to or acknowledge his royal roots, because his twin, his Eldun who had been born Elurin, did not want him to. Eldun desperately feared a return to that life. Elboron feared it, too. He feared what dangers it could pose to the villagers who had sheltered them and hidden them for so long. To Fion, and Bedwyr, who were like uncles to him. To Serenwen. To Serenwen's best friend Eirian, who would soon marry Eldun and become Elboron's sister-by-law. To Dilys, who had been like another mother to the twins, despite having feared what harm they could bring upon her quiet village. 

Some part of Elboron feared rejoining his family, Celeborn and Elrond and Elros, for more personal reasons. They all bore a tremendous amount of responsibility. He did not know if he could bear up to the burdens that his heritage would demand of him were he to shed his cloak of anonymity and take up the place of King Dior's eldest son and heir. He was sure that Celeborn would help him, as Lord Cirdan and Lady Galadriel aided young Aran Ereinion with the rule of the Noldor. But still, Elured unveiled would be the rightful King of the remaining Sindar. And he'd rather dig and fill privy trenches. Much rather. 

And Elboron wouldn't even have to be on 'waste management duty,' as the haughtier elves called it, if he hadn't punched those ellyn the night before. That was what Fion had punished him for. And not just with chores. Elboron was digging and filling with quite a sore backside and a red face, after Fion had spanked him and switched him for fighting, and starting the brawl. What was almost- but not quite- worse than the spanking and the switching had been that Elboron was pretty sure that at least a few of the other young wood-elves had heard him getting it. It was not that Fion had intended to embarrass Elboron - Fion wasn't that type of elf. It was just that there was no real privacy in a war camp. The surrounding area outside the camp wasn't safe, at least not for something so frivolous as giving a deserving youngster a sound bottom-warming. To Elboron, that perhaps suggested that there was no need to spank anyone in a war camp. 

But Fion hadn't felt that way, and it was more likely than not that Lord Celeborn hadn't, either. Elrond and Drystan were busy digging beside Elboron, both bearing the duty - and the smell - with admirable stoicism, despite their obvious discomfort in bending. And their complete avoidance of sitting, even when the lieutenant supervising their unpleasant task gave them leave to go take a break in the grass up-wind. 

Elboron was more surprised to see the nitwit elves they'd fought with ALSO digging trenches. Not only that, but also moving gingerly, as if somewhat had taken a switch or maybe a belt to their oh-so-deserving backsides. They even managed a small, half-hearted apology to Elrond and Drystan. 

Elboron caught Elrond's eyes not long after that, nodding towards the donkeys shifting uncomfortably in their fancy clothing. They were also occasionally covering their noses and mouths with embroidered handkerchiefs. That, and the obvious reluctance with which they'd made their sub-par apologies to Elrond, made Elboron want to push them IN to the foul-smelling trench. Judging by the speculative expression on his face, Drystan was feeling a similar urge. 

"No." Elrond said softly, a light laugh lurking in the gentle rebuke. "No more getting into trouble, either of you." 

"But they deserve it!" Elboron half-complained, half-whined, aiming to get another laugh out of his young nephew. He smiled when he succeeded. 

"Your Lord Uncle wasn't too hard on you, was he?" Elboron asked Elrond, concern warring with curiosity and just a hint of envy. 

Elrond's gray eyes saw it, and his mien was sympathetic as he answered. "He was not. Uncle Celeborn is very fair." Hiding a blush and ducking his head shyly, Elrond added, "He figured everything out, eventually. He and Aunt Galadriel talked to me, after...um, after he was done with me. He said that he understood why I - we - did what we did, and he was very kind." More sternly, Elrond added, "He will not be so forgiving in the future, and I do not want to let him down. Or Lady Galadriel either. So no more trouble, alright. Please?"

Drystan must have found it as difficult to say 'no' to Elrond as Elboron did. Both promised. 

As they started digging and filling in holes again, Elboron decided to ask Elrond, "So. Why ARE you doing it? Serving as your aunt's squire, I mean? Have you become bored with the work of an apprentice healer?" 

Elrond's amused gaze flickered over Elboron. "She needed one. I didn't mind. Its about as simple as that." 

From the surprised, curious expression on Drystan's face, that was more of an answer than he had expected Elrond to give. 

It turned out later that it was so. The next day at the trench, Elrond was absent, and so was Drystan, but Nallos was there, with Elros. 

"What did you do, to wind up on punishment detail?" Elboron asked the older of his twin nephews. 

"Spiked the wine being drunk by that lot," Elros nodded towards the ellyn who had insulted his aunt and his twin, "With strong laxatives." 

"Well-done." Elboron complimented him, while Nallos shook his head in disapproval. Nallos, like the high-born elves, covered his nose with a scented handkerchief when he could. 

Elros grinned proudly, before turning slightly more serious. "Elrond told me that you asked him, about squiring for our aunt. And Drystan mentioned that he'd actually given you an answer." 

"Which is unusual and you should be flattered." Nallos instructed Elboron a bit pompously. "Young Lord Elrond is a very private elf." Nallos eyed Elros with disfavor, "And so are you, normally, despite being a cheerful heathen." 

"Oh, Nallos, you say the nicest things." Elros teased, "Does your future bride know that you whisper sweet nothings like that into my ear?" 

"Oh, do behave, bratling." Nallos commanded Elros, but it was teasing, friendly. It made Elboron like him a little better, that he could take a joke. 

Elros laughed, and turned his attention to Elboron. "Anyway, just so you don't step on Elrond's toes by accident, and because you stood up for our aunt and Elrond, I'll tell you." Young Elros was very serious now. "You know that Galadriel's two handmaidens - the ones who were her bodyguards - died in that battle that went sour at summer's end, right?" 

Elboron nodded. "We sang a death song for them." He told Elros, "They were kind to Drystan, and they - and your lady aunt - held their lines many times, even when all who were at risk were scouts and infantry, elves and men of no rank whatsoever." 

His eyes watering slightly, Elros agreed. "Aye, that they did. Until they died, of course. Aunt Galadriel had been wounded the day, the day that Faenglorien and Ceti were cut down. She'd taken a hard blow on her helm, one that knocked her silly for awhile. They died keeping her safe until her company could withdraw. Her other bodyguards were all male, and they were...hmm." Elros seemed to be pondering how to say the next part without being vulgar. 

"Elrond is a healer, by heart-wish and training." Nallos explained softly. "A body is just a body, to him. Helping his aunt to put on and take off her armor properly doesn't bother him, even when she's woken in the middle of the night by the alarm. Dressing her for battle made her new guards uncomfortable, which made an already difficult situation more fraught."

"Does she really need guards, the Lady?" Elboron asked. Galadriel had always seemed very fierce and competent to him, when he'd seen her at a distance. And in his childhood memories. 

"Yes." Elros said shortly. "All of the commanders are targets. As well as those known to be related to army leaders. And Galadriel...well, for a sorceress, she makes a decent swordswoman. But for a swordswoman, she's really more of a sorceress." 

"Elros!" Nallos scolded. 

Elros shrugged. "Elboron isn't going to blab. He's like Drystan. He says a lot but most of it doesn't mean anything, or give anything away." 

"Thank you." Elboron said, gravely flattered by the twins' confidences. 

"Do as you will." Said Nallos, which made Elboron flattered again, that snooty Nallos trusted him that much. One of Nallos' finer qualities, in Elboron's opinion, was his loyalty to Aran Gil-galad and his family and circle. 

"Why does Lord Celeborn permit Lady Galadriel to go to war, if she is so unsafe?" Elboron wondered, having a hard time picturing the powerful lord allowing his wife to do any such thing. 

Elros choked on a laugh while Nallos looked disbelieving. 

"You've not met my aunt, then." Elros said, still chuckling. "Uncle Celeborn doesn't 'let' her do anything. Nor does her father, Aran Finarfin. In fact, both would rather that she stay safe at Balar. And besides, at least five of the other unit commanders are worse than Galadriel with a sword and bow, anyway." 

"Elros!" Nallos reprimanded again. 

"Well, they are, and being not-so-good isn't really her fault, and besides, she...." 

"No, Elros." Nallos said sternly. 

"Hmmph." Said Elros, looking put-out. Finally he ended his explanation with a simple, "Lady Galadriel is a better field commander than she is a swordswoman. She can follow the flow of a battle, ride ahead bravely to inspire her elves to stand fast. She can call and execute a retreat when one is needed. But she can't do all of that and look after herself well enough, hence, guards. The guards are all male now, hence, Elrond as her squire. At least for a little longer. Some of her other handmaidens have almost gotten the knack of putting on her armor, and at least Aglareb and Rhiwalagos, of her guards, are willing to tighten it properly." 

"What foolishness." Elboron commented briefly, "Modesty is much less important than safety." 

"Yes." Elros agreed soberly. "But a lot of elves just aren't that flexible." 

"Well," Nallos said with a faint smile, "At least not in that way." 

Both Elboron and Elros stared at him. 

"What?" Nallos asked, with another faint smile, "Can't I make a little joke, every now and then?" 

The two weeks that Elboron spent doing that particular punishment chore in his free-time passed rather quickly, with company as good as his nephews and their friends. Even Nallos got better. Elboron still couldn't quite see what Serenwen saw in him, but better. To Elboron's relief, Drystan and Elrond even came up with an explanation for why Elboron disappeared every time Lord Celeborn came anywhere near him. 

"Did you have a run-in with himself of the Sindar, eh, Elboron?" Drystan asked keenly. 

"Several times." Elboron said, with an uneasy smile. "Long ago. I did some rather juvenile things..." After all, Elboron had been a small child at the time, "And I'd rather not see Lord Celeborn again." 

"He wouldn't hold it against you, I don't think." Elrond said reassuringly, "But its fine. We'll cover for you, if you'd rather not be around him. He can come down hard on what he views as inappropriate jokes, at times." 

Celeborn had once had a better sense of humor and more patience, before Doriath fell. That was the Celeborn whom Elboron remembered. But Elboron was known to be somewhat of a prankster, so everyone was willing to believe the story about him avoiding Celeborn because of a joke gone wrong. Everyone except for perhaps Serenwen, who had known Elboron and Eldun growing up, and who was spending a lot of time with Elrond and Elros. She watched Elboron oddly at times, and he wondered if she might not have put one and two together for three. Serenwen was smart. 

Elboron rather dreaded the prospect of Nallos going home with her to their village, in the winter when the war paused for the snows. Seeing Elboron and Eldun together might be enough to make someone who had known the 'little twins' as they grew up also ask some questions. But then Nallos' father Canyavaso died later in the fall, and Serenwen decided to go home to the Isle of Balar with Nallos for the winter. 

As the weeks wore on towards the annual temporary halt of hostilities, Elboron kept an eye on Elrond. Something was different, in the youngest twin's eyes. Something was bothering him, as Galadriel stopped needing him as much and more and more elves fell around them. 

No one else would have noticed. Well, no one who wasn't Elros, and Elros was almost certainly a part of it, whatever 'it' was. 

Elboron knew Eldun, and he knew that not all of the crazy things he and his twin had done over the years had been his own idea. In fact, some of the most crazy and dangerous notions had been Eldun's. So Elboron worried a little, about Elrond. Specifically, about what Elrond might do, because Elboron could see, building in Elrond's eyes, that he was thinking of doing...something. Something dangerous, something wild. In Elrond's gray eyes, Elboron foresaw a choice coming. One that could not be taken back. He hoped that Elrond would make the right one.


	6. Something Wild, Something Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The War of Wrath is grinding into its third bloody decade, and young Lord Elrond has a choice to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: This story takes place in approximately First Age year 565. Elrond and Elros are 33 years old. Elured/Elboron is 65 years old. Elves generally reach their majority when they turn 50 years old, and their full physical maturity upon reaching 100 years of age. But with individuals who are almost half-human, like Elrond and Elros, they tend to age much more like humans than elves. And with beings who have at least a quarter of human blood, they don't age quite like elves, either. 
> 
> In earlier parts of "Tales of the Lost Twins" it is mentioned that Elros and Elrond aren't allowed to fight in the War. This story follows in time quite closely "The Lady's Squire," with this story taking place maybe a month or so after that one. 
> 
> A/N 2: Thank you so much to everyone who read the last chapters, and especially to those who left kudos or reviewed!

The battle camps of the Host of the Valar and their assorted human and elven allies were beginning to close for winter. Oh, there would probably be at least one more major battle and perhaps several smaller skirmishes before the cold set in for sure, but the fighting season was grinding to its painful annual pause. There had been several years, when they'd been further south, when there had been no winter halt. Elboron, who was both a wood-elf scout and a secret-prince-in-hiding, could remember those bitter years quite well. Even the elves had suffered from cold, and their human allies had died off in droves, despite the best efforts of the elven healers. If the humans had just been willing to withdraw and let the elves fight, more of them might have lived. But the humans were stubborn, and brave. Elboron liked them. 

The orcs and vampires and other foul creatures had suffered, too. They didn't wear shoes, and nor did all of the humans who fought for them. Tough as the feet of orcs were, they cracked and bled in the unnatural cold. Morgoth's volcanoes and cursed experiments had so befouled the air that the sunlight could not reach the world as brightly as it normally did. No one liked to fight in the winter, anymore. Sometimes a surprise attack was essayed by one side or the other, but not usually, as there was little to gain. This wasn't a war for land. At least not on the part of the Host of Valinor and its allies. It was a war for survival, a war to end Morgoth's power over this realm, and his perversions and cruelties. Enough of each army was kept near the lines to repulse an attack or call for aid, and everyone else got to go home for the winter. 

The air had grown chill and bitter. There had been fighting that day, continuing their bloody slog along the River of Sirion. Elboron swore that if he never saw this bloody river again in his entire life, he'd die a happy part-elf. 

Carrying his bow and a sledge for moving dead bodies, Elboron nearly tripped over young Lord Elrond on his way upriver back towards the camp. 

Elrond barely even noticed him, just shifting slightly out of the way so that Elboron and the other Laiquendi scouts could pass him by. Instead, Elrond's eyes were fixed across the river, on the enemy lines. That look was in his eyes again. The distant expression, as if he were about to make some choice and didn't care whether it worked out or not. 

Elboron offered his fellow scout Tomos his wine ration for the day to carry his sledge back to the make-shift grave yard, and then sat down beside Elrond. Most people thought that Elros was the hot-headed twin, the one who was the most likely to do something impulsive and crazy. And that was mostly true, so far as it went. But what most people did not know, was that not all the crazy and dangerous ideas that Elboron and his own twin brother came up with were Elboron's, just like with the younger twins, they weren't all Elros's. In fact, a lot of their craziest and most dangerous ideas had been Eldun's. If Elrond was as much like his own twin Eldun as Elboron thought that he was, then the determination and impetus to act on crazy ideas might be Elros's, but the ideas...were Elrond's. 

"Whatever is troubling you this night, my young friend?" Elboron asked quietly. 

Elrond did not look away from the far shore. "I want to do...something." He said softly. After a heartbeat he continued, "My aunt still might die of her injuries from yesterday's attack. They're taking her back to Balar. But that's not why, it's....I can't just be here anymore. I can't just heal. I have to do....something." 

The river rushed red, and the wind whistled with the foul scent of corpses and the menacing sounds of monsters stirring. Elboron just listened to his young nephew. 

"I...I want to do something...wild." Elrond continued, his mellow voice now merely a whisper, "Something dangerous." 

Elboron reached over to pat the youth's knee. "Do it, then." He suggested. 

Big gray eyes turned to stare at him. "Aren't you going to stop me?" Elrond asked, startled. 

"Why should I?" Elboron replied easily, "I'm not your father." Then Elboron remembered exactly who Elrond's father was, and where he was, and what that meant for Elrond. He felt awful. Elrond just seemed to hunch into himself. 

"Fornicating dwarves." Elboron swore at his own thoughtlessness, "I'm sorry, Elrond. What I meant was, I'm here to fight Morgoth. I'm loyal to my fellow Laiquendi, and to the elven commanders, because that's their goal too, and we stand and fight together. Nothing in 'not stopping you doing something crazy' is disloyal to my oath. Unless you're planning to go running straight into the enemies' swords while yelling, 'Here I am, Kill me!' You're not, are you?" 

Elrond shook his head mutely, nonplussed and wide-eyed. 

"Good." Elboron praised, "None of my business, then. Go for it. You - and Elros - have a right to be yourselves. The right to make your own choices. The right to be more than just this army's figureheads and mascots." 

"Thank you." Elrond replied, his gray eyes luminous, shining with gratitude and comfort and some emotion that Elboron couldn't even place. As if Elrond had always needed someone to say that, just that, and he'd never thought that anyone ever would. 

For his part, Elboron thought of the choice that he and his twin had made, staying in the village and letting Elured and Elurin remain dead. That had been Eldun's choice, but if they'd chosen differently, the burdens that had fallen on Elrond and Elros and Celeborn might have been theirs to bear. And it wasn't fair, to Elrond and Elros. That those burdens had been laid on them. That everyone in the Valar's entire army saw Elrond and Elros as their personal mascots, whom they wouldn't dare risk. Elrond and Elros were just beings, like any other. The young peredhil were not allowed to make their own choices, and they should be. Elros and Elrond had earned that. 

"You're welcome." Elboron answered. Then another idea, a frightening one, occurred to him. Elros still mentioned, from time to time, that if Maedhros and Maglor Feanorion had been permitted to aid in directing the army's strategies, they would already be across the River Sirion. So Elboron had to ask, "Um.... Your something wild, its not - the sons of Feanor?" 

"Oh, no. No." Elrond hastened to assure him, "Its not something for the army as a whole, not a strategy thing or a politics thing or a diplomacy thing. Its just for us." With that, Elrond looked longingly over to the human lines. 

Elboron read that expression. He didn't think that many could read Elrond, but Elboron was also a descendant of Luthien, and a twin who was Elrond's uncle, and he could. The human lines, that was Elrond's play. And Elros's. And it was a good one. 

"Good luck." Elboron wished his nephew quietly. 

Elrond silently nodded his thanks. Then he disappeared into the gathering evening gloaming, a new determination strengthening his steps. 

Later, on his way back from a midnight shift on watch duty, Elboron saw his young twin nephews again. They each carried a backpack and their weapons and armor. They were moving very quietly, slipping from shadow to shadow. He watched as they moved past one, two, three different sentries and check points. Elboron could see the twins, though. Being of the line of Luthien means something, but it doesn't mean as much if the fellow looking for you is ALSO of the line of Luthien. 

Elboron cleared his throat, gaining their attention. Elrond and Elros paused immediately, more like foxes freezing by their hole than deer in a field, but there was a little of the latter as well, at least in Elrond. 

"General Enthor's lines are in that direction." Elboron pointed out helpfully. 

Elros swore softly, and then began to ask, " How did you..." 

Elrond, more thoughtful, interrupted his brother. "We were thinking to approach General Galdor, of the House of Hador." 

"You could do." Elboron acknowledged neutrally, "However, the two of you are too dark to pass as sons of Marach." 

Elrond considered that carefully, while Elros spluttered. 

"The humans of the Haladin are mostly overlooked," Elrond mused pensively, "Despite being doughty fighters. No one should think to look for us there..." 

"On top of that," Elboron pointed out amiably, "General Enthor had a nice, loud dispute with Prince Ingwion and Aran Ereinion today, about the elves being bossy and failing to wisely use the human infantry. Because of that, General Enthor is planning to be on the far side of the battle line from the elves, next spring. He might be receptive to...others, who share his human heritage on their paternal grandfather's side, and who have different thoughts as to how the war should be waged." 

Both of the young peredhil grinned at Elboron. 

"Thanks." Elrond offered softly, as they turned to once again melt into the shadows. 

Elboron nodded, and then called out, "If you change your minds, and seek the Feanorions for counsel - come tell me." 

The twins considered him solemnly, and then nodded back. It was enough of a promise to satisfy Elboron, coming from them. 

That winter, the great scandal and worry was that Earendil and Elwing's twin sons had disappeared. Elboron expressed his concern politely enough, and then went home with his folk for the winter. When he returned in the spring, it was to hear that the still-recuperating Lady Galadriel had assured her kin-folk that their youngest scions were alive and well, somewhere.

Elboron did see the young twins, from time to time. He made it his business to take on, and even create, errands which took him near to the lines of the Haladin. The twins grinned at him, and he saw that they were well, and fitting in well. Growing, and growing more confident and happy. The army had more to be happy about, that year, for it was that year that they finally crossed the river, and began making real progress towards Morgoth's fortress. 

In the fall, Elros and Elrond were revealed when Elrond was summoned as a human healer to sew up a wounded King Ereinion Gil-galad. The twins' adventure might have been over then, save that the human generals Endor, Galdor, and Bregor had unanimously insisted that Elros and Elrond were HUMAN warriors, under their command. The humans saw the twins as of age and free to pledge their allegiance and assume other adult responsibilities as they willed, and the elves decided that it wasn't worth the political damage to insist otherwise. Elrond and Elros finished out the campaign season fighting with the humans, before being returned to their family for the off-season, with an agreement in place that come the spring, the twins would once again fight alongside the human warriors of the Edain. 

Elboron worried about the twins, after that. It had been fairly easy to think of excuses to cross the human lines to check on them. It was more difficult to find a reason to go visit the winter residence of Aran Ereinion Gil-galad to ask after his two younger foster-brothers. Among other things, both Lord Celeborn and Lord Amdir visited Aran Ereinion and his foster-brothers quite frequently. 

So it wasn't until Elrond and Elros were once again moving about the winter camp that Elboron had a real opportunity to check on them. He found them patronizing a carpenter's stall, when he was there to pick up a new set of wooden spoons for the cook pots of the Laiquendi. 

So far as Elboron could tell, the carpenter had put both of the twins at work, on something. Each twin was sanding a small...wooden block, of some sort. The blocks looked to be made from the wood of an Ash tree, or perhaps some other hard wood tree. Elboron wasn't sure what the small bits of wood could possibly be used for. Both of the wooden blocks were shaping up to be identical, about twelve inches long from the top of the handle to the base of the wider end, which itself was only three inches wide. The blocks of wood seemed too small and too thin to do much of anything with, although they were very sturdily constructed, with multiple layers of wood fused together, even though the whole thing was only about three eighths of an inch thick. Perhaps they were to be used in butter making? Still odd, in Elboron's opinion. If the twins were being punished, there were many more unpleasant chores they could be assigned. 

And they did seem like they were being punished. Elros appeared in turns rueful and pouting, as he sanded the front and back of his wooden block. Elrond's face was intent with concentration, as if he were focusing entirely on completing the task before him. Elrond's wooden block, Elboron noted, did look much smoother than that of Elros. 

A slightly older ellon lounged near the twins, sitting casually on a pile of timber probably intended to be used in building an addition to a residence or store. Every so often he would point out a bit on the wooden blocks that needed more work, causing the twins to glare or blush, and sometimes both. But he still seemed fond of them. His dark eyes when he regarded the twins were soft with affection. 

Normally, the twins - even Elrond - were quite observant. But today Elboron had to actually clear his throat again to get them to notice him. 

"Oh! Hi, Elboron! Elrond greeted, blushing brightly and putting down his wooden block. 

"What are you doing here?" Was Elros' much less friendly acknowledgment. 

"Fetching spoons." Elboron answered, even as the lounging ellon scolded, "Temper, Elros. Do remember your manners, pityahanonya." 

Elros scowled, but he did apologize. 

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Teased the older ellon, reaching into a bag beside him to offer the twins each an apple and a flask. "Take a break, both of you." He ordered, tactfully stepping further away to engage the master carpenter in conversation so that the twins could speak in private with Elboron, should they choose to. 

Which at least Elrond did, even though Elros lapsed into sulky silence. 

"It is good to see you well." Elrond told him. 

"And you, as well." Elboron replied. Waving a hand to include the sulking Elros, he clarified, "Both of you." 

Elros looked up at him, and then nodded reluctantly, offering a stilted, "Thanks." 

A silent conversation seemed to pass between the twins. Before Elboron could ask if they were truly well, back with their family, and make sure that the Noldorin King and the Falathrim Lord whom they lived with were not being too hard on them, Elros answered. "They're not. Not really. We disobeyed their orders and caused a great deal of fuss when we disappeared." 

"This is part of our punishment." Elrond explained softly, gesturing at the wooden blocks. 

Elboron picked one up, and considered it quizzically. 

Elros smacked a hand down on the table, stirring saw-dust, as he favored Elboron with a fulminating glare. "Oh, for the love of...." 

"Elros!" Elrond scolded, cutting of whatever interesting curse his brother was about to come up with. 

"It's a paddle, you Nandorin simpleton." Elros explained to Elboron, his tone still quite caustic. 

"A paddle?" Elboron said, still confused, "Like for a boat? A...very small boat?" 

Elros groaned. Elrond was blushing even more brightly, but a ruefully amused smile played about his lips. "No....Hmm. On the Isle of Balar, and in some of the places the army has gone, there aren't that many trees. So, instead of....cutting a switch, when someone....gets into trouble, many adults have one of these," Elrond gestured toward his 'paddle.' 

"They can use it to, um, punish you. Or someone else. Anyway, its easier than cutting a switch, and uses up less wood, over time." Elrond supplied. 

"Oh." Elboron answered, not sure what to say. He didn't know how he felt about the twins' foster-father and brother, or their uncles, smacking his twin nephews' bottoms with these...paddles. Elboron picked one up, taking a closer look at it. The paddle, he decided, did not seem like it would do a lot of actual damage. He supposed that it was acceptable, then. Still unpleasant, though. 

"Sorry." He offered both of the twins. 

To his surprise, it was Elros who shrugged. "As the price for becoming our own peredhil, it's actually pretty small. That and the chores and all the rest. Worth it, to fight. To have a voice at the table. I'd pay it again, twice over." 

"Would you, now?" Asked a rich baritone voice, that belonging to the older ellon who was seemingly supervising the twins. 

It was Elros' turn to blush brightly. Still, he answered forthrightly. "Yes. For...for independence, and to come home. We missed you." 

"I missed you, too." The ellon replied, his voice slightly husky. "Both of you." 

The twins' answering smiles were a bit watery. 

The older ellon shook his head at the twins. "We will be late for dinner, and then we will never hear the end of it. You can return here tomorrow to finish your....projects." 

"Oh, joy." Elros muttered sarcastically. The older ellon rolled his eyes, but ignored the cheekiness. 

Elboron reached over to lay a gentle hand on Elrond's arm. "You are both alright? Truly? Your High-King has not taken against you for your desertion?" 

Elrond's lips curved into a truly amused smile. "No. No, he hasn't." 

Chuckling, Elros added with much better humor, "He's not THAT much of an ogre, the High King of the Noldor." Glancing at their chaperon with mischief dancing in his gray eyes, Elros continued, "Although he can be a bit stuffy, at times. And entirely too serious, as if he isn't a young elf of barely one century himself...." 

"If you LIVE to be a century old, Elros, then I will be so proud of you that I will let you mock me as much as you please." Said the older ellon, gently chivying Elros out of the carpenter's stall. Meeting Elboron's stunned eyes, that elf explained kindly, "I am here as their older foster-brother today, you see. I am also their King, but only when I have to be." Then Ereinion Gil-galad, for it was clearly he, frowned at the twins, who both assumed contrite expressions. 

The contrition seemed to soften the young Aran's mild displeasure, for he smiled at Elrond and Elros again. "I will also be their King when I formally announce them as my heirs." He said quietly. 

Elros grinned, "So we'll get a greater say in things. Our own place at the table." 

"As long as you can be POLITE." The young King reminded his foster-brother and soon-to-be heir. 

Given that it was Elros, Elboron thought that it would be quite an "if." But the older twin could accomplish remarkable feats when he was determined. Elboron knew that, because he could, too. 

"Congratulations." Elboron told his nephews, wishing that he could tell them more. "I know that you will do well." 

"We'll certainly try." Elrond promised, as Elros straightened with pride. 

With that, Elboron bid them farewell. He did not watch them go in the direction of Aran Ereinion's well-lit and comfortable tent. He had his own family to get back to, Fion and Bedwyr, Serenwen and Drystan, and Tomos and his pretty sister, Anwen, who had just this season arrived to fight with the army. Elboron did make a note to check up on the twins as the battles resumed, now that it was known that they were fighting in the Host themselves. Nobody was going to hurt Elboron's nephews, even though Elrond and Elros didn't know that they were his nephews. Not if Elboron could do something to protect them. 

Elboron also made a mental note not to tell Fion or Bedwyr about these 'paddles.' Elrond had been right. Switches were getting harder to find as the army moved through land the enemy had already stripped of trees, and Elboron still found enough trouble of his own that he didn't want to give Fion any ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the twins start officially fighting in the War of Wrath, Elrond has a day when he forgets he's supposed to be a warrior instead of a healer, and almost gets very badly hurt. Elboron is there to save him, and Ereinion makes Elboron one of Elrond's guards. Which Elboron mostly likes, although it does make it harder for him to avoid his uncle Celeborn. Still, he manages, as described in chapter 3 of the "Tales of the Lost Twins," which is entitled "Shattered; Unseen." 
> 
> Earlier chapters of "Tales of the Lost Twins" can be found: http://archiveofourown.org/works/535929/chapters/951528
> 
> Other stories about young Elros and Erond can be found at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/214270/chapters/321600 and http://archiveofourown.org/works/214270/chapters/345099 and 
> 
> For a ficlet about finding out where Elrond and Elros had run off to from Ereinion's point of view, check out "Oh...umm, hi, Ereinion?" available at http://archiveofourown.org/works/214270/chapters/336804.

**Author's Note:**

> What if the twin uncles of Elrond Peredhel had survived, safe and anonymous amongst the secretive Nandor of the forests? 
> 
> And what if they weren't always so safe, or so removed from events in Middle Earth as one might think?
> 
> What if the grandchildren of Elured and Elurin were even less safe, less removed, from the great events of the dangerous Third Age? 
> 
> It means something, to be "Of the Line of Luthien." Elured and Elurin took the names Elboron and Eldun, to try to hide from their fate. Their children Elissed and Eurig were content to stay in the far woods, safe and quiet. But their grandchildren were not.... Emlyn Elissedion took leave of the Wood to fight in the Battle of the Last Alliance, as did Ecthelion (Theli) Eurigion. Emlyn's sons, Haldir, Orophin, and Rumil Emlynion, who didn't even know that they had a destiny to hide from, stood as heirs of the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien, and helped to hold Lothlorien against the Enemy for an entire Age.


End file.
